Louder than Words
by Orion Kohaishu
Summary: One Shot Bet ya'll are wondering why ah gave mah heart ta a guy like him? It's like playin' with fire: it's so warm and wild and passionate. And while it lasts, it's everything ya expected. But it can't be tamed. RogueGambit


Louder Than Words

I know. I know I should update, but I had this song stuck in my head and just had to write it into a one-shot. It's so perfect and beautiful! The song is called "Louder than Words" from the musical Tick, Tick, BOOM! and is a wonderful song, so listen to it if you have the chance, especially since the words have now been removed to fit into the new 4/27 songfic policy. This takes place when Rogue is about 22, maybe even 23, and revolves around the thoughts of Rogue and Gambit, with only a touch of Scott thrown in (because who doesn't love Scott?). It may seem sad and angsty, but it gets better. Promise.

Enjoy!

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Rogue sighed and tried her hardest to concentrate on the Danger Room Session, but she honestly didn't care. Sure, she didn't want to get hit, but the training part of the activity seemed a bit pointless. They trained every day. A morning off couldn't hurt anyone, right? And couldn't it be this morning, of all the mornings? 'One year...' she stopped, her mind traveling back to a time of happier memories. In her moment of hesitation, Scott, who she was sparring with, sent her a spinning kick to the face that she was too distracted to block. Rubbing her jaw, she grinned ruefully at her friend. "Nice shot, Cykes."

Scott grabbed her hand and pulled her to her feet, sounding concerned. "Are you ok, Rogue? I'm sorry, I thought you were paying attention."

She waved his apology off, popping her jaw back into alignment. "Don't be sorry, Scottie. Ah wasn't payin' attention." She nodded, showing that she was ok and ready to continue, but they toned the practice down to keep up a conversation. "Ah just don't really wanna do this today. Ah don't wanna do anythin' today, but grab Kitty an' a pint of chocolate ice cream an' watch movies." She sighed again as she grabbed Scott's arm and flipped him over her back.

Scott landed with a thud and an oof. "What's stopping you?" He braced himself on his arms and spun his legs, bringing her down to the floor as well before leaping to his feet.

She flipped up, immediately dodging his punch. "Ah don't wanna have ta think about it. It's been a year today, Scottie. Ah plan on spendin' all day in here, beatin' the crap out of things." She retaliated with one of her own and caught him in the visor, snapping his head back.

He recovered quickly, delivering a stunning snap-kick to her midsection. "Rogue... Are you alright? I mean, really."

She stopped, dropping her arms to her side. "Ah am so tired of everyone askin' me if ah'm alright. Ah shoulda known, givin' mah heart to a guy like him. It's like playin' with fire... eventually, ya get burned."

He rolled a shoulder and ended the simulation, the two of them heading towards the kitchen. "So why did you?"

She shrugged. "Why do people play with fire? There's that rush ya feel, an' it's so warm an' wild an' passionate. But it can't be tamed. We know that, we just choose ta ignore it for a while." She opened the fridge and tossed Scott a bottle of water, pulling one out for herself. "An' while it lasts, it's everythin' ya expected. But then ya get burned. Ya hurt, and then it dies down. But after awhile, it comes back. But the fire? The fire don't feel a thing." She sat at the table and took a deep gulp of the water.

Scott sat across from her and stared at his drink for a while, then spoke up. "Rogue... I'm sure it affected Gambit too."

She laughed bitterly, but reached across to take his hand. "Thanks, Scottie. For tryin' ta make me feel better. But ya an' ah both know that ain't true." She leaned back, propping the chair on its two back legs. "He was a player. He always was. Ah just chose ta never think it."

Scott looked sadly at his friend. They had gone through so much together; being X-Men, being teenagers, growing up, moving on, Scott's marriage, the birth of his daughter... and Gambit's leaving. After three years, they woke up one morning to find him gone. And to this day, he had never heard Rogue speak about it so openly. "What happened?"

She shrugged. "Ah dunno. Things were ok with us –- Hell, things were great with us. An' ah would love ta put all this on him. Ta say somethin' as simple as 'he left me for some old flame of his.' But it ain't that simple. An' it ain't entirely his fault." She screwed the cap back onto the water bottle and sat the chair back on the floor. "See, it was mah fault as much as his...

"_Chere? Y'in here?" Remy knocked softly on the door to their bedroom, pushing it open and joining her on the balcony. They sat in silence for a few minutes, her perched on the railing and him behind her, wrapping her in his arms. The normally outgoing thief remained quiet, waiting for Rogue to break the silence. He could tell that she had something she wanted to tell him, but was unsure of her hesitation._

"_Remy, ah... ah want ta tell ya... ah want ta say ah love ya. But ah'm afraid."_

"_Afraid o'tellin' me?"_

"_No. Afraid of lovin' ya. Ah'm afraid because ya are the way ya are, an' ah'm the way ah am." She broke free of his grip and turned to face him._

_He seemed confused, and hurt, and angry, and understanding all at once. "Well, chere, dat's what life is all 'bout. Takin' risks."_

_She looked down at the ground. "Ah take risks everyday. Every mornin' ah wake up wonderin' if it's the last mornin' ah'll ever see, cuz ah might die later in the day. Ah don't want love ta be the same. Ah want love ta be the one thing that's constant in mah life. The one thing that's safe... But then there's how ah feel about ya, an' ah have one voice tellin' me to run, an' another tellin' me ta stay..."_

"_Chere." At his soft voice she looked up, but the second she met his gaze, she knew it was a mistake. In his eyes she saw all the love she had for him reflected back at her. And she saw the pain she was causing him. The one person she should never hurt, and she was near to killing him. "Which do y'wanna listen t'? Fear? Or love?"_

_She could only return his gaze, and even that took incredible effort. Which did she want to listen to? She wanted him, that much was certain. But she needed safety, and a future. She had to choose between what she wanted and what she needed. Love or safety._

"_Remy..."_

_He placed a hand over her mouth, leaning in to press a kiss to her forehead. "Shh, chere. S'all right. Y'don' need t'say what we both know is comin'."_

"_Remy, ah..."_

_He pulled back and headed towards the door, turning back before he was inside. "Y'don' need to say it, chere. Yo' actions speak volumes." Then he was gone; out of her sight and out of her life._

_She broke down sobbing, knowing that it was the last she would see of him. "Remy... ah love ya..."_

"An ya know the worst part about all this, Scottie? Lookin' back on it, all this time later... ah chose wrong. Ah destroyed the only good thing ta ever happen ta me, all 'cause ah was afraid."

He rose and went to her side, pulling her into a friendly embrace. She returned the gesture, resting her head on his shoulder. They stayed that way for a few minutes, two young adults who had faced more in their relatively few years then they ever should have faced in a lifetime.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Gambit nodded. "Sure t'ing, Boss." The Acolytes were gathered, getting their newest assignments from Magneto. The Master of Magnetism was droning on about some new scheme of his that would ensure their victory, and this new plan that was foolproof, and had been for the last few hours. So of course the Cajun had stopped paying attention some time ago, letting his mind wander and his body work on autopilot.

It wasn't that he wanted to be anywhere but there; he had nowhere else to go. And it wasn't that he was bored; assignments meant action. And it wasn't even that he wanted to make some point to the boss about how long-winded he tended to be. Gambit honestly just didn't care. He had stopped believing in Magneto's cause years ago. He had stopped wanting to fight for him around the same time. But he didn't do anything to try and change his life.

He had tried, four years ago, but that had ended in heartbreak for the supposedly immune Jack of Hearts. And now? It was so much easier to just follow the commands Magneto gave him, then go home and sleep until the next day. Like a robot; no opinions, no feelings, no effort. It was just easier that way. Because if he let himself think about his situation, he would have to face his breakup with Rogue.

'Jus' t'ink... a year an' a day ago, y' were happy. Y' were honestly an' truly happy. An' now look at y'... takin' orders y' don' like from a man y' don' believe in...' He inwardly chuckled at his own pathetic existence. 'Y' ain't a man worth wakin' up t' every mornin'.'

He shook his head and rose, exiting the room along with the rest of his team. 'No wonder she left y', Remy LeBeau. Yo' goin' out fightin' f'r dis lunatic's cause. People are goin' t'die. But yo' too weak t'fight f'r dem. How can y' see what carnage yo' helpin' commit an' not fight?'

Pyro looked over from suiting up, strapping his flamethrowers to his back. "Oi, mate! Ya alroight?"

Gambit smiled bitterly. "Yeah, _mon ami_, 'm jus' fine."

'Y' unbelievable bastard. Y' never deserved her t'begin wit'.'

He sighed. It had been great, while it lasted. But he knew it would only be temporary. After all, they fought for different causes. Inevitably, their teams would have to clash at some time. And they would have to choose... Loyalty to their teammates or to each other.

_Gambit chuckled. They were fighting the Xavier's goodie-two-shoes. It was almost too perfect to be real. There was a puff of pink smoke and the unpleasant scent of brimstone, and the fuzzy blue one delivered a painful roundhouse kick to his side. He staggered and instantly charged a few cards to retaliate, but a voice froze both of them. There was such fury and hatred behind that usually lilting Southern voice. "Back off, Kurt. He's mine."_

_Gambit grinned at Rogue. "'d rather be fightin' y' anyway, chere."_

_She glared and threw the first punch. "Feelin's mutual, Swamp Rat." For the next few minutes, they fought harder than anyone else present. To the casual observer, it looked that they were fueled by hatred and the desire to kill. To them, it was an intense foreplay. It ended when Gambit tackled Rogue, pinning her gloved hands above her head and her body with his._

"_I believe I won dis fight, chere." They were both breathing heavily, for although neither had aimed to wound, neither had held back._

"_Ya may have won this fight, Swamp Rat, but ya lost the war." Sure enough, Magneto and the Acolytes were retreating._

"_Gambit, mate, c'mon!" Pyro hurriedly waved to him, beckoning him to regroup. Gambit rose, but then extended a hand to Rogue, pulling her to her feet. "What're ya doing, mate? Have ya bloody lost it?"_

_There was silence from both sides; the Acolytes retreating to the metal orbs they had flown in, and the X-Men assembled on the opposite side. This left Gambit and Rogue standing in the middle. He met her gaze, and the emotions within mirrored his own. There was desire; a residual effect of their sparring, love; which both of them knew was more powerful than anything, and fear. If they parted again, when would they next be together? And under what conditions?_

_They were both afraid of losing each other. But they were also afraid of turning their backs on what had become their families. Would either side ever understand what they had? But stronger then that fear was the love that bound them. There was only one solution; they both knew that._

"_Non." Gambit's voice was soft and raspy at first, but he cleared his throat. "Non, I don' t'ink so." He turned to face his one-time teammates and leader and shrugged. "I haven' lost it. 've found it. C'mon, chere." He took her hand and started walking over to the X-Men._

"_Gambit, you fool! Where do you think you are headed?" Magneto called across to their retreating figures. "Do you think they will accept you? After all the evil you have done?" Neither of the young lovers even bothered to turn around. "Are you listening to me, Remy LeBeau? We are the only ones who will ever accept you for what you really are. Never forget that." The thief in question never bothered to turn around, but his actions conveyed his thoughts perfectly well. No matter what he had to endure, he would do it for her._

And he had. He had stayed by her, suffered along with her and the X-Men for three years. And, he freely admitted to himself, they had been the happiest three years of his life. Contrary to Magneto's warning, the X-Men had accepted him... with a few exceptions. Logan had never fully warmed up to him, but then again, he would never warm up to someone romantically involved with the girl he considered a daughter. The rest of the team accepted and even came to love him.

But when she had turned her back on him, everything fell apart. She was his link to the X-Men, she was the one he had given up everything for, and she was what kept him there. And so, of course, she was what caused him to leave. She said she was afraid to love him. She was afraid of his love. He had given up everything that he had ever known for love. And she had given up love in the face of fear.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Scott lay awake in his bed that night, his mind on the problems of his close friend. He had known Rogue the longest out of anybody on her team and, with the exception of Logan, knew her better than anyone as well. He had been there with her through every obstacle she had had to overcome, no matter how trivial. He had fought beside her as she struggled with her mutation, her feelings for her enemy, or even trying to pass geometry. And he knew that the whole Gambit fiasco was affecting her much more than she let on.

In all the time he had known her, Scott had never seen her happier than in the years the Cajun had spent with them. Only in those three years did he hear her laugh; really laugh until her sides ached and tears spilled from her eyes. He had never seen her really smile, where her smile reached across her face to light up her eyes, not until Gambit. And never had he seen them since.

He sighed, defeated. It was true that, because of their recent conversation, Rogue's problems weighed heavily on his thoughts. But they all had their demons to fight, and more pressing things shifted to the front burner. Scott pushed aside the covers and rose from his bed, planting a soft kiss to Jean's forehead before tiptoeing over to the crib beneath the window. Inside, his infant daughter slept soundly. She was only eighteen weeks old, but already cast off from the world for her mutant parents. Scott leaned his arms on the rail and watched her sleep.

In a few years, she would be walking, talking, and going to school. In a few more years, she would be driving, dating, and making her parents' crazy. But how many years before she felt the first sting of a racist remark? How long before she began to believe those who called her a freak? The country they lived in, a country built on the fundamental belief of equality, was not friendly towards their kind.

What would it take for mutants to gain ground? How many more lives would need to be saved, how many more would need to be lost, before the scales were settled? How long before regular people woke up and realized that the two races were not all that different? There was no sure way to _make_ it happen. Their acceptance would have to be earned, to be gradually won. But how long would his little girl have to grow up in a world that hated her? How long before she could just be another face among the multitude? He reached into the crib and brushed a hand across the red down sprinkled on the crown of her head. He would never stop fighting for her.

He withdrew his hand and returned to bed, falling easily into the sleep that had earlier eluded him.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Under the same sky, Remy sat awake at his window, naked except for a sheet wrapped around his waist. He stared out at the lights of the city that never seemed to go out, trying to think of anything but the sleeping woman who was equally naked in the bed behind him. She was pretty enough, with curly blonde hair and deep, brown eyes on a curvaceous body. She also had long, slender legs and was _quite_ flexible when she felt like it, making her great in the bedroom. For any other man, she would have been the perfect woman to have a summer fling with. But Remy could barely tolerate her, or himself.

He didn't love her, nor did her pretend to. It wasn't fair to either of them, and so he had made it very clear that they were lovers, nothing more. No strings, no commitment, no hidden meanings attached. Still, he couldn't help but feel bad for the way he used her; for the short period of pleasure he took from her, then went back to thinking of another woman. He knew that nothing would ever come of his nights with Terri, for that was her name. What he couldn't figure out was why he kept coming back to her apartment, night after night, when all he ever left with was a feeling of guilt.

It took awhile for the answer to come to him, and after he wasn't sure if he had really wanted to know. He stayed with Terri because having even her lying next to him most defiantly beat sleeping alone night after night. Feeling like he was using another human being for sexual gratification, or even to drive away the thoughts of the woman he left behind, were easier than spending a night as the only one in his bed. "Yo' sick, Remy. Y'love Rogue. An' yo' sleepin' here wit' Terri, a girl whose last name y'never even bothered t'find out, rather den tryin' t'get her back." Disgusted with himself, he rose and swiftly dressed, scribbling a quick note on the back of a card to leave on the bedside table. Then, just as silently, he was out the door and returning to base.

Being "home," or as close as he could come to the term, also brought no relief. When he was home he was just another drone, eager to follow every whim of Magneto in the hopes of gaining his favor. That was no life, especially not when the leader they were throwing themselves at was a man like Erik Lensherr. Some men, men like Charles Xavier or even Scott Summers, were born to lead. They had a certain patience, bravery, and compassion for their followers. Magneto had none of those qualities. He waited for nothing, whether it was an opportune moment or a lagging team member. He rarely ever _led_, instead directing his troops form the safety of behind them. And never in their time had he cared about a single of the mutants who fought and died for him.

Where was the honor in following a man like that? Where was the feeling of accomplishment, of satisfaction at the end of the day? And why, oh why, did so many people have to die? Killing the humans would never bring the peace Magneto promised, not unless they slaughtered each and every one. And even after that, they would most likely go crazy or kill themselves with the guilt. So where was the point in it all?

It was long-past time for Remy to try and change is life. He had never really felt the need to, until now. One year since the last time he had ever felt anything positive. One year since he had last seen Rogue. Why now was he suddenly so interested in atoning for his deeds? "Ah Hell, y'moron." He laughed out loud and turned back from his room, maneuvering the passages to the garage. He readied his bike, walking it out to the gate without waking the watchful Sabertooth. "Why the hell has it taken me so damned long t'get her back?" He kicked the bike to life and sped off; leaving in his wake the fruitless life he had given up.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Rogue was awoken at three in the morning by the feeling that she was not alone. She had moved out of her room with Kitty over five years ago, so she knew immediately that whoever was watching her sleep was an intruder. She sat upright, scanning the room while carefully calling upon her borrowed Wolverine powers to release lethal claws. She only slightly relaxed when she found the room empty, but still kept on edge. After all, _something_ had woken her up. She rose, making her way over to the open window and closed it tightly before returning to bed.

She hadn't even closed her eyes before she remembered that she always locked the window before going to bed each night and shot up again, this time freezing when a pair of red eyes met hers through the darkness. "Remy? Is that really – are you really here?" She cursed herself at how vulnerable her voice sounded, at how needy it sounded, but she hadn't seen him in a year.

"Yeah," his voice was equally soft, making her feel only slightly better. "'m really here." He took in her wary stance and the claws still protruding form her hands. "I scare y'?"

She opened her mouth to snap back at him about breaking into her room, but stopped. "No," she smiled at him. "No, ya never scared me." The claws retracted into her hand and suddenly she was across the room to throw her arms around his neck. "Never."

He returned her embrace, wrapping his arms around her waist to pull her into him. "Chere, I-"

"Shut up, Remy." She placed a hand over his mouth firmly, glaring at him and effectively silencing anything he may have wanted to say. She moved her hand, caressing the stubble of his cheek. There were lines around his eyes that hadn't been there before, and his skin looked drawn over his cheekbones. "What's the matter, Swamp Rat?" she murmured affectionately. "Ain't ya been sleepin'? Now," she changed the subject. "Ya never let me finish what ah wanted ta say a year ago, ya know that?"

"I know, chere. I t'ink I was afraid t'hear it den."

She laughed softly. "Ah think we know where fear gets us, neh?" He grinned wryly and nodded. "Ya afraid ta hear it now?"

He was silent as he released her, and she was afraid that she had crossed a line; that she had pushed to hard. But after a few minutes of tense silence, she was able to let out her held breath as he responded, "Non. I t'ink it's a bit long overdue, chere."

Shyly, she renewed her grip on him, placing her hand on either side of his face to bring it down to her eye level. Meeting his gaze firmly, she whispered, "Ah love ya, Remy LeBeau. And don't ya _ever_ forget that, ya hear?"

"Yes ma'am. I hear y'." He wrapped one arm around her and closed the distance between them, pressing his lips against hers. At first it was a chaste touch of lovers too long parted, but quickly shifted to the fire that had never quite died after their breakup. They moved backwards, falling together onto her bed and, somewhere between where the kiss had started and where they were now, Rogue realized that they had shed their clothing. As they lay together, naked, a while later, Remy leaned over and kissed her again, tenderly. "I love y', Rogue."

"Thanks for tellin' me, but ah think ah might have figured that out already."

**Actions speak louder than words**

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The End

Told you it got fluffier! Now I hope you all enjoyed, let me know!

Orion


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